


Taste

by softestpunk



Series: (Witcher) Christmas Kisses [11]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Elves, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: Elihal comes home to Éibhear after a long winter's day.





	Taste

Among the many benefits of having moved in with Éibhear, Elihal’s current favourite was living in the best-heated house in Novigrad. The winter--and all its attendant balls and feasts--were always busy for a tailor, and after a long day of rising at first light, working until dusk, and then delivering orders until dark, the heat of the forge was a welcome respite from the cold and a balm for sore muscles.

Elihal paused in front of it a few moments, letting the full force of the heat warm his clothes and skin before he stepped inside to the smell of cooking.

Another benefit. He smiled at the thought, though wished, as ever, that Éibhear didn’t feel the need to do so much for him. It was a rare day when Elihal was allowed to take the weight off his lover’s shoulders, and though they may have been broader than his own, they were also greatly more burdened.

Éibhear looked up at him, covered in flour, grinning ear to ear.

As always, Elihal’s heart skipped a beat. He loved this elf so intensely that it was often hard to look at him, lest he be drawn into staring forever.

“Welcome home,” Éibhear murmured, going back to his task. Dinner was already laid out--so this was something extra.

A bread or a cake or something of the sort, Elihal decided. The batter was filled with glistening chunks of dried fruit and with the smell of spices rising from it.

Unable to resist, Elihal circled the table to dip his finger in it. He tasted sugar and cinnamon and something else, something he was unsure of but that made his tongue tingle delightfully, a smile spreading over his face.

“It will taste much better when it’s cooked and soaked,” Éibhear said, nervous. He was rarely anything  _ but _ nervous, and Elihal had come to think of that as a charming quality and also a challenge. He was solely responsible for helping his wound-up elf to relax of an evening, and he enjoyed the task immensely.

Elihal looked up, taking in the flour on Elihal’s nose, and then darted in and licked it off with one swipe of his tongue before claiming his lips.

Éibhear made a soft, surprised sound, but melted into the kiss eagerly, letting Elihal have whatever he wanted, as ever. Elihal reached out to trace his way to the tip of Éibhear’s ear, drinking in the soft gasp in response, smirking as he stroked along the back. He knew exactly where to touch, and took great pride in this knowledge.

“You taste much better than anything else,” Elihal murmured as the kiss broke, immediately leaning in for another.


End file.
